The Congruent Apprentice (The Congruent Mage Series Book 1)

by Dave Schroeder

  The combined magic of the blue and red magestone gave Eynon confidence, despite the monsters below him. With his staff in one hand, the red gem in his other hand, and the blue stone around his neck, he formed new spheres of solidified sound the size of melons and sent them down to smash into the beasts’ noses. That proved counterproductive. It only made them angry.

  Three of the basilisks were already at the edge of the flat space on top of the rock.

  Eynon created steps of solidified sound and climbed them until he was standing on top of an invisible tower two feet wide and six feet tall. Basilisks roared and snapped below him, sending drops of gray mud up to spatter his coat. Eynon could feel Chee cowering below his sternum. It would only be seconds before more basilisks arrived and climbed over the ones already in place to reach Eynon and snatch him from his magic-generated pedestal. He didn’t want to look down, in case a basilisk caught his gaze and froze him in place, but it would be only moments before he became food for the mud monsters.

  A shield of solidified sound around his body might protect him from the beasts’ teeth and claws temporarily, but he didn’t know how long he could keep such a shield in place, and the monsters didn’t seem inclined to leave. Eynon wondered if he could shape a sled, like half a barrel, out of solidified sound and ride down over the backs of the attacking basilisks, but realized that would return him to the ground where he’d be even easier prey.

  Eynon was considering other, even less attractive options for escape when all his choices were abruptly taken away. Pain and surprise made him scream as the tips of massive claws pierced his skin.

  Chapter 20

  “The world looks different from the clouds.”

  — Ealdamon’s Epigrams

  Eynon was torn from his magical pedestal and felt himself rising, his face buffeted by downdrafts from the beating of broad, bat-like wings. Below him, the landscape of hot springs and mud pots was getting smaller. The angry grunts of thwarted basilisks faded as Eynon gained altitude. He could feel Chee quivering inside his heavy wisent-skin coat and was glad that garment was thick enough so that the wyvern’s claws only pricked the skin of his shoulders instead of creating deep punctures. Above him, Eynon could see the beast’s massive black chest. It was all he could do to hang on to his new magestone in one hand and his staff in the other.

  I hope it didn’t decide I’m a snack-sized wisent? thought Eynon.

  The two-legged dragon-like beast was flying back in the general direction of the Academy. It circled above the clearing where Eynon had seen the gryffon take on the old bull wisent and descended rapidly, coming in for a none-too-gentle landing. The beast dropped Eynon a second before its own taloned feet touched the ground.

  Eynon rolled, protecting Chee with his arms, and used his staff to help him stand. His shoulders burned, but Eynon didn’t have time to worry about minor injuries—the wyvern was turning to face him, its toothy mouth open wide.

  Eynon threw up a shield of solidified sound just as the wyvern’s tongue flipped out to lick him. Saliva dribbled down the far side of the shield, making Eynon laugh in an unplanned release of nervous tension. The wyvern’s expression resembled a puppy’s throw-me-a-ball face. Eynon shifted gears from concern to relief. The wyvern could eat him in a single gulp, but that didn’t seem to be its intent.

  “Who’s a good boy?” said Eynon to the scaly beast, using the same tone of voice he’d take with a friendly dog.

  The wyvern’s tongue shot out and licked Eynon’s shield a second time. Slobber dripped from the corners of its mouth. The monster’s pointed external ears flicked up and its striking copper eyes opened wide. Clearly the creature was expecting something.

  Without dropping his shield, Eynon formed another bright yellow, high-frequency ball of solidified sound. The wyvern’s long, pointed tail thumped excitedly against the ground. Eynon could feel Chee’s head poke out from his coat, but didn’t have time to spare to check on the raconette.

  With a burst of magical energy, Eynon sent the yellow ball a hundred feet into the air. The wyvern launched itself after the ball and captured it in its mouth before it fell more than a dozen feet. Eynon watched as the massive creature, three times the size of the bull wisent, circled and gracefully landed back in its original position. Once in place, the wyvern opened its mouth and allowed the ball to roll out on the ground, where it bumped against Eynon’s shield with a soft click.

  “Do you want to play, boy?” asked Eynon.

  He sent the yellow ball up again, this time spinning it on a high arc behind the wyvern. The beast shot skyward, made a quick midair turn, and retrieved the ball a second time, dropping it in front of Eynon with a gentle bow of its head.

  “Good boy,” said Eynon.

  Eynon didn’t know if the wyvern was male or female or something else unique to its species. He wasn’t interested in examining its hindquarters close enough to check, either, so good boy would have to do for now.

  The beast’s fascination with the ball of solidified sound gave Eynon an idea. He moved the yellow ball off the ground until it floated in front of the wyvern’s nose, then slowly guided it to the left. The wyvern’s head followed the ball. Eynon lowered his shield—still keeping it at the ready if necessary—and stepped to the beast’s right side. He lowered the ball so the wyvern had to crouch to stay level with the ball.

  Eynon moved the yellow sphere in small circles to keep the wyvern’s attention. He put his new magestone in his pouch for safekeeping and slid his staff in next to the shard strapped to his pack. Then he stepped up on the creature’s right leg and found a flat spot to sit between the wyvern’s wings.

  Two protruding bony knobs a hand’s breadth in front of the wings gave Eynon something to hang on to. For extra safety, he took off his scarf and used it to anchor himself securely in place.

  The wyvern didn’t seem to notice Eynon on his back. Its focus was completely on the yellow ball, which it licked every few seconds. Now that he was on top of the beast, Eynon could feel a rumbling below him—whether from the wyvern’ hunger or happiness, he couldn’t tell. Eynon gently urged the ball up and the wyvern followed. Once aloft, he got his bearings and directed the ball southeast toward the castle.

  Eynon eased forward and peered over the front edge of the wyvern’ beating wings. He couldn’t see the fields of hot springs and mud pots behind him, but did see rising clouds that he thought must be connected to the waterfalls near the Academy. They were on course.

  Dozens of other towers of steam rose, marking additional hot springs distributed around Melyncárreg. The colors of the terrain below were the dark green of pine trees and the white of the winter’s remaining snow. A few miles ahead, Eynon spotted the Academy’s outer walls and towers, their gray stones standing out against the stark background. Far in the distance were the deep blue waters of a lake surrounded by low hills.

  It’s beautiful, thought Eynon as he gazed at the land rolling by below him. I wonder if I can spot the Coombe if we go higher?

  Eynon decided not to try for more altitude. Somehow, he knew that his homeland was far away. If Melyncárreg was anywhere near the Coombe he would have heard of its strange wonders from passing travelers or would have read about it in Robin Goodfellow’s Peregrinations. Besides, flying made him cold, even through his heavy coat. He’d be glad to have some hot soup and a couple of the rolls he had in his pack. It would be time for lunch in an hour, after all.

  The wyvern’s wings made Eynon’s return journey much faster than his outbound trip. They were circling the castle in minutes. Eynon sent the yellow ball down to rest a few dozen feet from the side door that led down to the castle’s kitchen and the wyvern followed it. He left his scarf in place in case he ever needed to ride on wyvern-back again and slid down the beast’s flank to stand in the snow. The black beast kept its focus on the yellow sphere, which Eynon moved back and f
orth on the ground in front of him.

  To reward the wyvern for its help, Eynon took one of the four remaining bread rolls out of this pack and surrounded it with a second ball of solidified sound, infusing the roll with some of the flavor of his magic. He guided the second ball next to the first one in front of the wyvern and dispelled its protective sphere. The wyvern sniffed at the magic-enhanced roll where it rested on the white ground, then stuck a claw-tip in it and brought it up to his mouth.

  “Go ahead. Eat it, boy,” said Eynon.

  While the beast investigated the baked dough, Eynon slowly walked over to the kitchen door. He thought he could escape through it if the wyvern decided Eynon meant eat him, not the roll. He watched as the wyvern popped the small bit of bread off the end of its claw, savored it on its tongue, and swallowed.

  The wyvern’s response to the treat made him smile. It was much more intense than the armored creature’s reaction to the non-magical roll earlier. The big beast turned over on its back and writhed against the snow-covered ground in apparent ecstasy, emitting a high-pitched hum from its throat that Eynon interpreted as a sign of pleasure. Eynon took a second roll from his pack, seasoned it with a touch of solidified-sound magic, and tossed it to the wyvern, earning a repeat performance.

  “I’m glad you like my baking,” he said to the wyvern’s armored belly.

  Behind Eynon, the kitchen door opened with a creak. He turned to see Nûd standing inside the entryway, wearing an expression that looked like he’d been struck in the back of the head with a piece of cord wood.

  “What. Is. That?” asked the Master’s young servant.

  “He followed me home,” said Eynon. “Can I keep him?”

  Chapter 21

  “Be careful about exceeding expectations.

  Others may come to expect it.”

  — Ealdamon’s Epigrams

  Nûd looked up to mark the sun’s position, then laughed so hard he had to bend part-way over and put his hands on his knees.

  “What’s so funny?” asked Eynon.

  He kept one eye on the wyvern, who was happily licking the yellow ball of solidified sound that had rolled thirty feet downslope.

  After taking a deep breath, Nûd controlled his laughter, but kept a big smile on his face. He straightened up and answered.

  “You’re back well before noon,” said the big man. “I don’t think anyone’s ever done that before.”

  “I hitched a ride,” said Eynon, glancing at the wyvern and smiling back at Nûd.

  “You don’t understand,” said Nûd. “Usually, candidates come staggering in close to supper time or the following day after lunch.”

  Eynon nodded. Nûd’s face grew more solemn.

  “Some don’t come back at all.”

  “I think I know why,” said Eynon, remembering the basilisks.

  He started to tell Nûd what had happened, but the big man interrupted.

  “Wait,” said Nûd, holding up his hand. “Not now. You can tell me and Damon over lunch in the kitchen.”

  Eynon remembered he had two rolls left in his pack.

  “I’ll make some soup,” he said.

  “A wise plan,” said Nûd with a grin. “What about your oversized associate outside?”

  “He just ate,” joked Eynon, though he wasn’t sure how much of the bull wisent had been left after the gryffon had feasted.

  He created two more balls of solidified sound—one blue, one green—to add to the yellow sphere, in hopes of keeping his new friend occupied and out of trouble.

  After a final check on the wyvern, Eynon followed Nûd down the stairs to the kitchen. He took off his pack, hung up his hat and coat, and leaned his staff in a corner. Then he fed Chee a dried cherry, and set off to gather ingredients from the pantries, while Nûd went to the library to find Damon.

  In the cold pantry, which was exposed to the frigid outdoor temperatures, Eynon discovered half a wisent carcass hanging to age. He sliced a modest chunk of meat from it, then collected several different root vegetables—turnips, rutabagas, carrots, and onions—plus a quarter-wheel of soft cheese, dried peas and a handful of spices from other storage locations.

  Eynon cubed most of the meat, chopped the vegetables, and put them all in a pot over the fire with the dried peas and the spices. He added enough clean water from the system of magical lenses still running over the main sink to cover all the ingredients. Unfortunately, the soup wouldn’t be ready until dinner time, but he had a plan for a tasty lunch.

  He sharpened his knife again and used it to cut thin slices from the remaining wisent meat and dice a large onion. A follow-up trip to the pantries helped him locate a bottle of sunflower seed oil and a large bulb of dried garlic. Eynon minced two cloves and put them near the wisent steak and onions. Then he took a large cast iron frying pan from a peg on the wall near the fireplace and suspended it a foot above his prep table on a hollow cylinder of solidified sound.

  Here goes, he said to himself.

  Drawing on the power of the congruencies inside both the red and blue magestones, he added heat to the bottom of the frying pan, which he’d already covered with a layer of oil. Soon the oil was bubbling and crackling. Fire magic seemed to come even easier, now that he had help from his magestone.

  “Nûd!” Eynon shouted. “Damon! Lunch time.”

  He calculated that it would take the pair a few minutes to get to the kitchen—if they’d heard him—so he’d have time to finish cooking their noon meal before they arrived. First, he browned the meat. It was so thin it was ready in seconds. He moved it to one side of the pan and tossed in the onions and garlic. They added their savory smells to the kitchen and must have wafted up the stairs, because Nûd appeared a minute later, with Damon behind him. The older man was beaming.

  “Eynon!” he said. “Good lad! You’ve set a new record.”

  “For what?” asked Eynon as he moved the meat and onions back and forth in the pan with a long-handled ale-cake turner.

  Nûd anticipated what Eynon would need next and brought three pewter plates over to the sizzling pan.

  Damon didn’t respond—he didn’t want to distract Eynon from his culinary efforts.

  Eynon portioned out the meat, onions, and garlic. Nûd and Damon took their plates and sat at the broad kitchen table. Reaching down, Eynon took his last two rolls out of his pack and gave them to Nûd and Damon. They used them to sop up the cooking juices.

  “Did the Master like my rolls?” Eynon asked Nûd.

  The big servant brought his hand to his forehead.

  “I’m a fool,” he said.

  Damon nodded his agreement, but didn’t stop chewing.

  “I never took the rolls up to him,” Nûd continued. “They’re still in a cloth bag in the dry pantry. I’ll get them.”

  “Won’t the Master be upset if he doesn’t get his rolls?” Eynon asked Nûd’s departing back.

  Damon winked at him and wiped juice from his chin.

  “What the Master doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” said the older man.

  “Oh,” said Eynon.

  He’d hoped that the Master would like his rolls, and therefore might want to meet the newest student in the Academy face to face. Now Eynon would have to come up with another strategy to bring himself to the Master’s attention.

  When Nûd returned, Eynon saw there were only four rolls left in the bag. Nûd looked guilty.

  “Damon and I each had one for breakfast,” he said. “The Master doesn’t usually have a big appetite, so we didn’t think he’d mind if we ate his.”

  Eynon wagged a finger at Nûd in mock disapproval and took two of the rolls, leaving the others one more each. Then he brought his own palm to his forehead.

  “Now I’m a fool,” said Eynon. “I forgot the cheese.”<
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  Eynon cut the quarter-wedge in thirds and passed pieces to Nûd and Damon. Chee saw the cheese and decided to descend from a kitchen rafter where he’d been sleeping to join the humans below. Eynon fed him bits of roll and morsels of cheese. A minute later, the raconette’s cheek pouches were bulging and he was sprawled out on the table amid the plates.

  “I’m thirsty,” said Damon. “Break out that bottle of the good stuff I know you’re hiding. We need to celebrate!”

  “Since you asked so nicely,” said Nûd.

  The big man walked back into the warren of pantries and returned with three small glass goblets and a tall, dusty, thick-walled bottle. Eynon read the label. Applegarth’s Finest. He smiled in anticipation.

  Nûd removed a wax seal and extracted the bottle’s cork with a loud pop. The scent of apples wafted across the table. The big servant poured the potent apple-flavored liquor into the goblets and handed one to Eynon. A sip later, Eynon was convinced the applejack lived up to its name. Its complex, fiery flavor was amazing. He’d have to compliment Baron Derry next time he saw him.

  It was still hard for Eynon to think of Merry’s father as a nobleman. Derry seemed so down-to-earth and friendly, not like the tales he’d heard about stuffy nobles who thought they were better than yeoman farmers and artisans.

  “Nûd told me you tamed a wyvern,” said Damon with a kindly smile.

  “Yes, sir,” said Eynon. “And I found my magestone.”